In the Dust of this Planet: Horror of Philosophy, Vol I - Eugene Thacker
Published in 2011 by Zero Books, Alresford, Hampshire, UK
170 pages
ISBN: 978 1 84694 676 9
What do rapper and producer JayZ, True Detective writer Nic Pizzolatto, and conservative political commentator Glenn Beck have in common? The answer might surprise you. As it turns out, the centerpiece that connects this strange collection of individuals is a little book on philosophy, horror, and nihilism called In the Dust of this Planet. Written in 2011 by Eugene Thacker, this work of philosophy made a surprising splash within the mainstream culture a few years ago. Regardless of whether its influence was felt through the typeface of its cover adorning leather jackets, inspiring crime television dramas, or serving as fodder for conservative hacks and grifters to misread and rail against as a sign of the moral decay of our society, one must wonder how many of these people have taken the time to read this obscure little book.
Far from a simplistic or one-dimensional work on the virtues of nihilism, In the Dust of this Planet is a fascinating and wide-ranging exploration into the relationship between horror and philosophy. Tackling an array of topics from black metal, demonology, mysticism, witchcraft, existentialism, Buddhist philosophy, and horror literature, Thacker aims to explore the limits of our thought, and what horror reveals about the unthinkable world.
Overview:
Grounding Thacker’s book is the idea of “the horror of philosophy,” which is an attempt to articulate the “unthinkable.” Much of modern philosophy, according to Thacker, has been enmeshed in anthropocentric thinking, which ultimately centers the human subject as the center of thought and experience. Thacker’s attempt, therefore, is to construct a new way of thinking about the world and the nature of thought that considers the world apart from us. Thacker’s central idea is that horror literature brings us to the edge of thought, as it brings us to the very limit of human thought and forces us to consider the world apart from the human. Utilizing the category of the “world-without-us,” Thacker prods us to begin thinking of our planet beyond the limitations of humanity by exploring this category within horror literature and alternative culture. Thacker argues that supernatural horror expresses these limits of our humanity in our secularized world today in a similar way that religious mysticism did in the medieval and early modern era.
Thacker begins his exploration of these ideas in his first chapter, titled “Three Quaestio on Demonology.” Utilizing a medieval strategy of questioning and responding, Thacker dialogues back and forth with himself as he explores three main topics related to the realm of demonology. First, he examines the significance of “black” within the Black Metal music genre, using Schopenhauer and Nietzsche to argue for a kind of “Cosmic Pessimism” that avoids the anthropocentric foundations of both Satanism and paganism. Second, he explores how demons have been portrayed through literature such as Dante’s Inferno, using an anthropological lens to argue that they serve as a boundary between the human and inhuman. Finally, he also examines the category of the demonic throughout history in relation to biology, medicine, and politics. Here, Thacker argues for a philosophical consideration of the demonic, which serves as a negation of the human (through Thacker’s construction of Demontology and Cosmic Pessimism).
In his second chapter (titled “Six Lectio on Occult Philosophy”), Thacker gives us his unique reading of occult philosophy and its usefulness in demarcating the boundary between natural and supernatural. As opposed to the occult philosophy of the Renaissance which was rooted in humanism, Thacker’s philosophy seeks to be anti-humanist, “having as its method the revealing of the non-human as a limit for thought” (54). Thus, this chapter is broken into two main explorations of this kind of anti-humanism, as Thacker explores the use of the magic circle in literature as a boundary between the natural and supernatural (Lectio 1-3) and the utilization of motifs such as blobs, slime, ooze, mists, and clouds as manifestations of the hidden world without the use of mediation (Lectio 4-6). Along the way, Thacker ventures into examples from literature and film (Faustus, The Devil Rides Out, Black Easter, Carnacki the Ghost-Finder, the work of H.P Lovecraft, Junki Ito’s manga series Uzumaki, etc). Ultimately, this leads Thacker to ponder the implications of the hiddenness of the world upon political theology, in which the human is confronted with a cold, indifferent, and unresponsive world stripped of its anthropocentrism via theology (a sovereign God or king) or political science (a totalizing state).
Thacker proceeds with these themes in his third chapter (titled “Nine Disputato on the Horror of Theology”). Here, Thacker takes a decidedly philosophical turn, as he attempts to define what exactly constitutes “life.” Thacker’s unique idea is that horror is not a manifestation of our fear of death, but rather our dreading of life. In his attempt to define life itself, Thacker makes references to Aristotle, Schopenhauer, Aquinas, Lovecraft, Otto, and Kant as he seeks to find a way beyond both of the definitions offered by the categories of Being and God (the former a non-ontological category of science and the latter an onto-theology of the afterlife). In his appraisal of these ideas, Thacker concludes that philosophical thinking about life owes much to mystical, apophatic theology since this radical negativity is at the root between Being and Life.
This idea leads to the final chapter of the book, titled “The Subharmonic Murmur of Black Tentacular Voids.” Here, Thacker centers an anonymous poem that circulated online as a jumping point for considering how a mysticism of the unhuman could help us address the climatological, meteorological, and geological world that is so much in crisis today. Thacker utilizes St John of the Cross, Jakob Bohme, Georges Bataille, and Kyoto School philosopher Kenji Nishitani to articulate a kind of dark mysticism based on a radical groundlessness (Śūnyatā) that is centered in the recognition of the unhuman. Thus, Thacker argues that this form of mysticism is relevant to us today, as it insists on a radical disjunction and indifference between the self and the world and is ultimately climatological (rather than theological), as it can only be expressed within the dust of the planet (158-9).
Commendations:
Thacker’s little book is a unique and interesting exploration of an alternative way of thinking about the relationship between horror, philosophy, and theology. Thacker is well-read and a deep thinker, as he attempts to synthesize a wide range of philosophy and literature into a cohesive framework for understanding the nonhuman. Thacker utilizes an interesting comparative methodology by placing philosophers like Kant and Schopenhauer alongside modern Buddhist thinkers to construct a kind of “dark mysticism.” He synthesizes thinkers across philosophical and religious traditions, which help to make his thesis all the more robust and intriguing.
Furthermore, I found his examination of demonology through the lens of medicine, politics, and philosophy especially interesting (running up against my field of specialty within theology). Thacker condenses a large amount of literature and philosophy into such a small volume, and he’s fairly clear and concise in his summations. The book starts a bit shaky and is a bit of a slow-burn toward the beginning, yet it also seems to crystallize and focus as it progresses. The book also has a unique and engaging structure, reflecting a variety of exercises in medieval theological discourse, which lends itself to a memorable reading experience. The chapters often leave the reader with more questions than answers, which can be stimulating and frustrating in equal measures.
Critiques:
As such, although Thacker’s thesis is indeed interesting, it never feels quite fully-formed. The chapters can be a bit fragmentary and often read more like three mini-essays rather than a cohesive whole. Thacker often opens avenues of further inquiry and thought and introduces interesting ideas (especially regarding “dark mysticism,”) but they don’t lift off of the ground in any meaningful way. The issue here is twofold, as both the content and structure don’t offer Thacker any favors in helping him clarify his thoughts.
In regards to structure, while I find the organization of the book (3 Quaestio, 6 Lectio, and 9 Disputato) to be novel and an interesting framing device, at times it can seem a bit forced and gimmicky. Many of the ideas are often disconnected between sections, and his use of the Quaestio in the first chapter can be a bit unnecessarily confusing and unhelpful. Thacker jumps around thematically and chronologically, which can be a bit disorienting for the reader, especially if they are unfamiliar with the material that Thacker utilizes for his examples.
In regards to the content, one could say that the difficulty lies in trying to think the unthinkable and articulate it comprehensively. Thacker is writing about the limits of human thought, and while he offers interesting avenues to explore these ideas, it can be a bit of a dense and overly academic read. The work is riddled with academic jargon that is most likely inaccessible to the average reader. While there are many interesting ideas worth considering in this volume, they are often buried under a pile of obscure and unnecessarily convoluted philosophical references and throw-away lines.
If the reader is already vaguely familiar with horror literature and the history of philosophy, then this book shouldn’t pose too much of a challenge. If, however, one is completely uninterested in the connections between philosophy, horror, and mystical theology, then this book will probably not engage your interest at all. Yet, even if you are incredibly engaged and interested in this topic, you might still be disappointed by the repetitiveness of his analysis in this volume.
Toward the end, I didn’t come away with a better understanding of how such a dark mysticism could be useful in reconfiguring our notions regarding our climate, and the political implications of his thesis are left rather vague and fuzzy. When I finished this book, I must admit I was a bit disappointed, since I was eager to see how Thacker’s ideas could be used in novel ways (especially in the realm of the political). Yet, although Thacker mentions these dimensions, they are never fully pursued and articulated. To be fair, this is the first of three volumes in this series, so I am interested to see how Thacker develops these ideas further.
Conclusion:
Overall, In the Dust of this Planet is a unique and fascinating introduction to the idea of the “horror of philosophy” and the limits of the human. While it can be a bit convoluted and confusing in spots, the book is a worthy introduction to the idea of horror as a philosophical lens as he develops the idea of the “world-without-us.” For fans of horror, philosophy, nihilism, witchcraft, and the occult, then this book is sure to challenge and leave you with more questions than answers. While it often reads more like an academic thesis than an accessible work of pop-philosophy, it is still a worthwhile read, especially for fans of the genre. If you can wade through the overly-verbose academic jargon and messy structure of this book, there are a few gems to be found that are worth finding and taking into consideration. Many people might not find the patience to work through this book, let alone the rest of the series. Even those that finish this first volume might not find the return to be worth the investment. While I found the book to be a bit more interesting and useful (especially considering my academic interests and specialties), I understand that more critical perspective. In the end, more than anything, I am at least intrigued to see where he takes these ideas in the next two volumes of this series.